


So Close to Me

by Trinket



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Clark Kent, Collars, Humiliation, Kryptonian Biology, M/M, Mpreg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Sex Toys, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket/pseuds/Trinket
Summary: Clark, fresh out of University has inherited a small piece of property from a reclusive family member. It's too bad the property is surrounded on all sides by land belonging to a rich hot billionaire or is it?
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Comments: 20
Kudos: 148





	1. New in Town

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mutually Beneficial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701693) by [Internerdionality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internerdionality/pseuds/Internerdionality). 



Clark stared down at the key in his hand. His great-uncle had left him a little piece of property in Gotham. A small farmhouse and a couple of run-down stables. He wasn't sure how he was going to get the funds to fix the place up. Even if he cut down some of the trees and planted saplings in their place, he didn't think it would be enough material.

Like the Kent farm, this was a part of his heritage. Maybe not his _official_ heritage, but family wasn't always about blood. His great-uncle had been a childless man on his Ma's side of the family. Little known and quite a recluse, but for whatever reason, the man had still left him a parcel of land.

He'd want to strike out on his own. He didn't feel like being _just_ a farmer. It was a good life, but he was twenty-one now and fresh out of college - which he'd begun when he was seventeen. He'd only managed to graduate so early because he'd taken extra semesters between the typical ones. And due to his processing speed had been able to still help out at the farm during the harvest season.

Now he just had to find a job. Thus far he hadn't managed to find anywhere. Be it for his interest in journalism, science, or animal husbandry. The latter of which he could have easily done back home on the Kent Farm in Smallville. These days, even with letters of recommendation, resumes, and references, with or without experience, work was difficult to come by. Unless he wanted to work in retail and he'd rather not. What if someone needed help? It wasn't like you could just leave a customer waiting for ages. He'd be fired in no time. Even setting his own hours wouldn't work. Which left him to ponder how he was supposed to keep his new piece of real estate _and_ help his parents keep the farm from being foreclosed by the bank as it was always a close call.

Sitting down on the one good piece of outdoor furniture, a concrete bench, he stared around the land overrun with weeds and vines choking the other plant life. Old and withered shrubs, fallen trees. He turned his head to stare at the little one floor, two-bedroom house with its broken and boarded windows, and it's open askew door.

From where he sat, he could hear critters scampering about inside. If he didn't have _any_ neighbors, he could easily clean the place and rehome the animals - as long as they were healthy - and at least fix the door if not the windows. Except there evidently was a neighbor. _One_. He could see the lights on from where he sat as he gazed in the direction of Wayne Manor.

The man who lived there had been lucky to be born into the Wayne family. Not so lucky on that dreaded night he'd read about in clippings left by his recluse of a great-uncle. The man hadn't lived or taken care of his land parcel in ages, maybe decades. What money he'd had, had gone to paying taxes and medical bills as he neared the end of his life, leaving only the parcel of land he'd bequeathed to Clark. Clark worried he might have to sell it because there was no way he could afford it for longer than a couple of months with both his meager savings and what little of his great-uncle's fortune had been left over after all the other dues.

Clark wished he'd known the man better, but he'd been a bitter curmudgeon who didn't want to be bothered. Which confused him since they'd only met a handful of times when the man had needed his aid. They were, _had been_ family after all. Not that the old fellow had ever let him help without grumbling about it, or trying to deter him from helping at all.

It looked like he'd just have to wait for the cover of nightfall to do all the fixing up inside the house and then get started on the weeds come morning. There was a lot to do and only so much he could do without the money to spend. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do anything. It wasn't like he had anything else to do anyway while waiting for callbacks and waiting to call places back himself. Not that anywhere seemed all that promising. Many places didn't even have applications available as they weren't currently hiring. And his journalism degree wasn't suitable for Wayne Enterprises and it's various sectors.

With a sigh, he stood up and went inside the building. At least the foundation was sound and it wasn't falling apart inside. Just the windows were broken and there were some warped floorboards. Dust and cobwebs everywhere. The furniture on the other hand, completely useless. What there was of it and it would all need to go. But he didn't know who he was going to hire a truck and trailer from so to put all the broken pieces and debris in the back to take to a dump. Nothing looked salvageable, otherwise, he would have found some way to upcycle.

Just looking at everything, he felt tired. Not physically, but nonetheless, he felt overwhelmed despite his abilities. Since he had to hide them and he wasn't sure if he was being watched or not by his closest neighbor.

Shaking his head he inhaled and then exhaled. He sent the dust out of one of the back broken windows facing away from Wayne Manor. The cobwebs themselves flew out the window and the furniture wound up against the one wall.

It might have looked better if not for all the fixing the floor and windows still needed, not to mention the place was in dire need of a paint job. The electricity, gas, and water probably needed some tinkering as well. Not that he needed any of it, but he did. Not for the usual reasons that the humans of Earth would, but to hide himself as his Ma and Pa said he should so that the military didn't get wind of him and try to experiment.

He shuddered at the idea. He'd had nightmares of being strapped down to a table in a cold lab where he was treated like a _thing_ and not a person. 

Removing his coat he laid it down on the floor and then he sank down and closed his eyes. There was little else he could do about the building when others would surely be awake and possibly spying on him due to curiosity, or some other reason he couldn't fathom. And he wondered, for a moment, just what he'd gotten himself into thanks to that late great-uncle of his.  
  


* * *

  
Bruce stared through the binoculars at the small abandoned house that was surrounded by Wayne property but didn't belong to the estate. Which he'd just learned earlier from Alfred when he'd spotted what he thought was an intruder. They could still be one, but it was best to wait till the cover of the night unless the man was up to something right then and there.

"Who is that man," he growled under his breath. 

Alfred sat down a tray, "Your afternoon tea and biscuits, Master Bruce."

Bruce placed the binoculars down and frowned at the tray. "I'm not hungry, Alfred."

"You should at least hydrate, sir."

"I will, Alfred. Did you know anyone was going to be on that property today?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. The man who owned it is only just fresh in the grave. Perhaps it is one of his relatives?"

"That man? He didn't even live there. I don't remember anyone living there."

"He moved before your birth, sir. He was, I believe, a friend of your grandmother's."

"What _kind_ of friend?" He hoped not what first came to mind. He'd heard tales of people in the past who had secret love affairs with neighbors, or those who worked on someone else's property.

"He was not that way inclined, sir, but the man he loved was killed during a war. I heard tell, he never recovered from his loss, Master Wayne."

Bruce lifted the cup of tea and took a sip. "That must have been difficult. Even to live together, back then."

"Indeed, sir."

"Still, we don't know if the man _is_ a relative. And whether or not if he is, is he supposed to be there? I don't like this Alfred."

Alfred dipped his head. "I did not suppose you would, sir. It may make keeping your identity a secret with someone living so close by, Master Bruce."

"What if there's a way into the cave on that property?" He thought he'd gotten to know every way in and out of the cave system below Wayne Manor, but one could never be too careful.

"I am certain, sir, that there is not. It is just five acres with one small house and two stables. The place, however, is not currently habitable in its current condition, Master Bruce."

Bruce took another sip of his tea and picked one of the biscuits up. "Do you think whoever is there has somewhere else to stay?" It would be better if the stranger did if the man was even allowed onto the property, that way he could double-check.

"I am sure I do not know, sir. Perhaps you should go introduce yourself to our neighbor. Perhaps offer him some of the biscuits as a house warming gift, Master Bruce."

"Think I could buy the place?" He bit into the biscuit with chocolate chips.

"Only if the new owner wishes to sell, and they might, sir, with how much money and work would need to go into repairs and updates."

"Hnn," was all he could respond to that. It looked as though he'd soon be paying their new neighbor a visit. Once he'd finished the biscuit and the tea accompanying it he stood up. "Looks like I'm taking a run."

"Very good sir."

He nodded to Alfred and then changed into a pair of running shorts, sports socks, and running shoes. He also sported a headband with matching wrist bands. With him, he carried a bottle of water and set out for the curious building with the stranger. He didn't believe they'd ever met, but if someone new was moving into Gotham, _especially_ so close to the Wayne estate he needed to know about them and what their intentions were. Ill or not.

When he arrived at the door, body starting to break a sweat, he glanced inside. Faint light pierced through the broken window where the boards allowed. The rays of the sun were like stripes lighting up the stranger's body. He looked sun-dappled.

His brows furrowed as he watched him, for a moment seeming not to be breathing. Until the chest lifted and expanded and then lowered. Well, they were alive. And... taking a nap on a floor badly in need of remodeling. In one corner there was the old furniture, and in another, a single solitary suitcase.

Either the stranger was just a squatter looking for temporary shelter, they were some sort of criminal scoping something out and looking for an adequate headquarters, or they were the new owner of the small parcel of land, but didn't look like they could afford much if anything. He could find a squatter somewhere else to stay. He could figure out what a criminal was up to and then get them arrested. He could offer to buy the land if the person owned it.

"Hello?" He called out, mouth thin.

The man stirred. He sat up and blinked at Bruce.

Bruce's breath hitched at the look in those eyes. They were the brightest blue he'd ever come across. Like shinning jewels that any thief would covet. Except... they were eyes.

He watched the man lift a hand and wipe away the sleep from his lashes. "Uh.. hi? Who're you?"

"You don't know?" It was rare to come across anyone, anywhere in the world who didn't know who he was. Well, there were places, but it was still a rarity for him.

The dark-haired man shook his head and slowly stood up. He dusted off his jeans and grinned. "I may not know, but you can tell me." He held out his hand. "I'm Clark Kent."

Bruce took the man's hand and shook it. The stranger's handshake was firm. "Bruce Wayne."

Clark blinked. "Bruce Wayne?"

He nodded.

Clark's hand dropped from his. "Wow. I uh... don't know what to say. Hello. I'm your new neighbor." He looked around the room and sighed. "Not that I'll have any time to chat. I've got a lot of work to do to get this place right habitable."

Bruce looked around the darkened room again. He wanted the interloper _gone,_ but he was a beauty of a man. The muscles underneath his plaid shirt and jeans spoke of a man who'd grown up performing laborious feats. "Where are you from, kid?"

Clark turned back to stare at him. "I'm not a kid, Mister Wayne."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

So he was somewhere around nine years younger than himself. Yet he appeared even younger with those brilliant blue eyes and the way the sunlight through the window just seemed to light him up. "Fresh out of college?"

"Uh... yes."

"Most are still taking classes at your age. Did you drop out?"

Clark shook his head. "No, I just did the full credits each semester and did extra classes between fall and spring semesters."

Bruce would have said that was amazing, but it wasn't like he couldn't have done so himself if he hadn't only focused on what he thought would help him in his mission. This man being here might hinder him. If he found out who he was the guy might even go to the presses and expose him. It was a chance he couldn't afford to take. It would place his mission in danger, but it would also expose Alfred, Dick, and Barbara. He wasn't willing to risk _them._ "You know, kid, I'd be willing to buy up this land and you can just go home."

That earned him a frown.

Clark shook his head. "No. I'm not going to sell my great-uncle's land. He left it to me. It might not be in great shape, but it belonged to my family. And family means _everything."_

Well, the kid had guts, he'd given him that. Except he hadn't met the Batman. "Can you afford it, Mister Kent?"

Clark sighed. "I don't know. But I'm not giving it up. Certainly not to some rich playboy who thinks they have the right to own whatever they want."

Bruce frowned and then smiled, grimly, "I only thought I'd offer. The land is surrounded by the Wayne estate, and I do like my privacy. You're a stranger so I don't know what you might get up to. That's not why I offered, it just doesn't seem to be habitable."

"Well, thanks, I guess, but I grew up on a farm, I know when a foundation is sound. I know when something is fixable and when it's not. The place might need work, but I can make it into a home. It's all I've got that doesn't belong to my parents and it's time I lived on my own."

He wondered if he'd have felt like doing the same were his own parents still alive - if they'd not met their deaths at the end of a gun barrel.

"Well, if we're going to be neighbors, why don't you stay at the manor? This place has no heat, or anything right now." And it would be easier to keep an eye on him. So far he hadn't noticed any concealed weapons.

"I... I couldn't impose, Mister Wayne."

"It's no imposition. I've got plenty of room."

"But, I can't pay you."

"Is it not what your own family would do for a stranger?" He glanced over his shoulder at him and watched him blink and lower his head, then look back up after a moment.

"I guess, you're right. Thank you, sir."

"Well, come on then. I can even get into contact with people who can help."

Clark shook his head. "No. I won't be able to afford it. I have to do it myself."

"And what was your major in college, Mister Kent?"

"Journalism."

Bruce paused and whirled around. "So, you're a reporter?"

"Can't really say that I am when I haven't landed on my feet."

"No job?" Well, that did mean the man couldn't afford anything. But it couldn't be too difficult for him to find work, even if it wasn't in his chosen field.

"Unfortunately, no. The job market seems scant. It's part of the reason I left home. I've been putting in applications in Metropolis and Gotham both. Not just at the newspapers either."

He could offer him work, but then he'd be on the grounds. It's why he didn't really hire anyone to take care of the estate. It was left up to him, Alfred, and Dick. Which meant some things were overgrown, even when he called in a different individual every time to take care of the lawn once he'd made sure everything was secure enough.

No, he didn't want him to be on the grounds stumbling onto something. It was too dangerous. But with Alfred and Dick around to keep an eye on things, it wasn't too hard for him to offer the young man a place to stay. He just needed to look into whether or not he spoke the truth and this all wasn't some ruse to get him to let his guard down.

"Well, I'm sure you'll land on your feet, but," he smiled as he swept his gaze down and back up, "I'm sure we could come to some kind of agreement if you should be in need of further assistance." He turned on his heel and walked out of the building. Stood underneath the late afternoon sunlight. He'd seen the man's face redden even as he spoke the words. It'd been a while since he'd thought about having more than a one night stand. Longer since he'd offered to be someone's Sugar Daddy. Still, even that couldn't be placed on the table until he knew _more.  
  
_

* * *

  
Clark followed Bruce Wayne back to Wayne Manor, his face flush with color. _Had_ the man been flirting with him? Was that a proposition, or a hint at one, he wondered as he stood outside the door to the mansion.

He wondered if he should turn back, but it wasn't as though the man could harm him. No one could as far as he knew. It didn't stop the roiling in his stomach. Just because there was little for him to fear, didn't mean he never felt afraid. He just didn't fear the same things most of the time as other people who walked the Earth.

The man was handsome, at least to his eye. He could see why others might be interested too and not just in the man's looks, but his deep pockets. It just reminded him of the people who owned the bank back home and were always looming like vultures over his parent's heads. Good people who were a kindly couple working hard to keep their farm afloat. Their home. A farm that had long been in the Kent family. To him, it was _home._ All of the planet was home to him even though he was not from the Earth, surely he was of it? A part of it. He'd worked the fields for his father because he'd wanted to. Had helped raise animals, fed calves that had lost their mother. Had been taught so much by the Kents; his Ma and Pa.

Rich people, well, he didn't care much for them. Few were truly good in any way. They only cared about themselves and not other people. They wasted money on frivolous things instead of helping the disenfranchised and needy who had no other recourse. A lot of people had once almost lost their jobs back in Smallville when the owner of one of the only places to work had been about to close as the profits were minimal. Even though there _were_ profits. Although, he'd not read about any layoffs in regard to Wayne Enterprises. But that didn't mean _anything._

Yet, the more fortunate were unlikely to offer a helping hand in any capacity. Yet Bruce Wayne had extended his hand and offered him a place to stay while he fixed up the place that had been left to him. He could have survived fine there without all the amenities, but he also knew that it would draw suspicion and he couldn't have anyone growing suspicious of him. Even if he couldn't be hurt, his parents and friends _could._ He did not want the government or worse to use them as hostages and do horrible things to them, just because they wanted to extrapolate information. He'd seen too many horror movies involving aliens, good or bad, and even tv shows like the X-Files.

At least there seemed to be few around. He could only hear three nearby heartbeats. Bruce Wayne's, and two others. With fewer neighbors surely it would be more difficult for anyone to figure it out. That he wasn't _biologically_ human.

He blinked when an older man wearing a butler uniform spoke, "Shall I take your luggage, sir?"

Bruce looked from the man to Clark. "Clark Kent, this is my butler, Alfred Pennyworth, Alfred this is our new neighbor, Clark Kent. He'll be staying with us until his place has been cleaned up and brought up to code."

Alfred Pennyworth bowed his head to him while taking his single suitcase. "I'll show you to one of the guestrooms, Mister Kent. Welcome to Wayne Manor."

"Thank you, Mister Pennyworth... but you can call me Clark."

"This way, please, Mister Kent," the man turned and led him inside and up a set of stairs to a large peach-colored room with white and yellow accents.

"Thank you," he murmured and watched him leave the room after setting his luggage inside next to a dresser.

Looking around the room he saw two doors besides the one leading back out into the hallway. One was a closet and the other to a connected bathroom. The bedroom itself had to be at least half the size of the building he'd been left by his great-uncle.

Once he had put his clothes and toiletries away in their proper places, he descended the stairs. It was still daylight hours and he needed to get things done.

However, as he was passing one of the rooms, he overheard them.

"Master Bruce, are you sure it is wise to invite a stranger to stay?"

"Where else was he supposed to stay, Alfred? The place is in need of repair. There's no electricity or water there. And he's from out of town, and it didn't seem like he'd be able to afford anywhere to stay."

"Be that as it may, sir, do be careful."

"I will, Alfred. We can keep an eye on him, in case he isn't who he says he is."

"I'm sure it helps that he's _pretty,_ Master Wayne."

Bruce was quiet for a moment. "So, you noticed that. Well, with my luck he's one-hundred percent straight. Or worse, a homophobe."

"And if he is not, sir?"

"He'd run away if he knew what I'm into. That's why nothing lasts."

"I'm sure that is not the only reason, sir. You tend to push people away if you give them a chance at all," Alfred said in a whisper. Something that Bruce might not have caught, but Clark heard it.

What was strange was how different the man seemed when interacting with his butler compared to, well, what the newspapers and television said of the man.

They thought he was pretty, he recalled and felt his face heat up. Most would say handsome, wouldn't they? Cute even? But _pretty?_

Shaking his head, he turned away and continued. Only to stop at a bookshelf in one corner of a hallway. His brows furrowed at the titles. Each one causing his face to flush darker still. They were BDSM books. Each talking about topping, bottoming, different kinks, and fantasies. Some were romance novels he was sure, although he didn't see the Fifty Shades of Grey anywhere in sight. Of course, there were even books on how to be a sugar daddy. Who just left that kind of stuff in an easy to find hall on a bookshelf?

The spines on most of the books were creased, which meant they'd been read a few times. Perhaps this was what Bruce Wayne had meant by people running from him because of his _tastes._ Clark might not have a whole heap of experience, but he wasn't unaware. However, he knew too, that just because someone liked to read certain literature it did not mean it was something they wished to be a part of. Although not everything on that bookshelf was fictional.

He shook his head and left the building back to the other. He could at least start taking up the flooring. He didn't have tools, but it wasn't difficult for him. As long as no one entered the place while he was tearing up the boards from the floor. It would also give him a chance to look for any rotted or exposed wiring. 

As he tore up some of the flooring it wasn't long before he discovered that the entire wiring of the place needed to be replaced. Which meant he'd have to purchase wiring and new outlets. There was so much to fix. _Too much_ if he was being honest. He didn't have a job, so he couldn't purchase anything except food and pay on the taxes. At least there wasn't some mortgage hanging over it, but if he didn't get some sort of income within the next couple of months he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep it and it.

When the sun sank beyond the horizon, he sighed and stood to dust off his legs and shirt. He turned back toward Wayne Manor and knocked on the door. Alfred Pennyworth let him inside.

"I've prepared dinner, Mister Clark, if you'd care to join Master Bruce?"

He blinked. "Uh... thanks, but I don't think I'm dressed for dinner and I need to wash up anyway."

"Dinner will be served in half an hour, sir. It would not be fitting, nor proper, for Master Wayne to not entertain his guest."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll just go wash up then." Well, it wasn't the Kent family farm, but he wasn't about to be rude to his host.  
  


* * *

  
Bruce sat down at the head of the table in his dining room. There were so many empty chairs, save one. He watched as Dick came into the room with a grin.

"Hey, Bruce."

"How was school, Dick?"

Dick sat down at the other end of the table and grinned, "It was great. We aced the project. I mean it was just building a pyramid from Egypt and reciting the essay we wrote for it. I'm just glad Roy, Wally, and Garth were my partners this time." He looked down at his hands with a sigh. "I just wish Babs could have been there, but she's off at University."

"It's only three years before you go, too, Dick."

"Yeah, I know. I just wish she wouldn't have skipped a grade. Then she'd still be here for at least one year!"

"I'm sure she'll visit in the summer."

"I hope so," Dick leaned back in his seat. "Anyway, I heard we have a guest?"

"We do. He's the new owner of the property out back."

"Really!? That place needs a lot of work. It might even be better to tear it down and start fresh."

Bruce nodded. It's what he thought. Not that he'd have rebuilt the buildings if he'd bought the land.

Dick placed his elbows on the table, head in his hands, "You _didn't_ offer to buy it, did you?"

Bruce's brows furrowed.

"You did!" He slapped the table and leaned back, shaking his head. "Come on Bruce, maybe it's all the man has. Some people can be pretty attached to things that belonged to their family. If it's all he has left of his relative..."

Bruce nodded. "Well, I did offer, but he wants to keep it. However, he doesn't have a job and might not be able to keep it."

"Why don't you offer him a job then?"

"I'm not sure his credentials would match up with anything that Wayne Enterprises has open. His major at his University was journalism," and he wasn't going to mention what _other_ profession he thought of was. Except it had been a long time since he'd bought anyone's time or more from them. He didn't need to, but it was often a way to keep a distance between them. So that they didn't expect too much from him and he wouldn't expect too much from them either. Not that things even then had gone all that smoothly. Once he'd started to feel too much, but the other person once they had the money, well, they'd taken it and found someone else. Another time someone had gotten too attached to him. Which he might not have minded if they hadn't turned out to also be a wanted criminal from out of town. A serial killer in fact, but they hadn't realized who he was.

Bruce knew next to nothing about Clark Kent. If he were to offer what he was thinking, he'd want to do some sort of background check first. Which he'd task the computer down in the cave system with once dinner had come to an end.

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Bruce. You always do." Dick grinned and turned his head. Blinked and glanced from Bruce to behind Bruce and back. "Well, didn't know how handsome he was."

Bruce looked over his shoulder and followed Clark as he moved to take a seat. Saw his face flushed and hair damp. 

"Hello," Clark murmured.

Bruce nodded and pointed to Dick. "This is my ward, Richard John Grayson."

"Call me Dick. Everyone does. Except for Alfred."

Clark nodded. "Nice to meet you, Dick."

Bruce then pointed to Clark. "This is Clark Kent."

"Clark Joseph Kent, but you can call me Clark. Most people do."

Dick grinned. "It's nice to meet you too Clark. How old are you? I'm fifteen."

"Uhm... twenty-one."

Dick blinked. "You look younger. Sure you're on the tall side, maybe almost as tall as Bruce, but still."

Alfred cleared his throat as he walked in with a wheeled cart holding a few different cloche's.

Bruce was grateful, honestly, and nodded to Alfred. "Thank you, Alfred. As you can see our guest has joined us."

"So I see, sir," he placed one cloche in front of Bruce, another in front of Dick, and one last one in front of Clark. 

Clark glanced at Alfred, "Won't you be joining us, Mister Pennyworth?"

Alfred stared at Clark. "Good heavens, _no._ That would not be proper. I shall sup in the kitchen. Please enjoy and should any of you be in need of anything, do ring the bell." He pointed to a little bell sitting on a curio shelf that displayed good china behind glass doors.

Bruce would have been fine with Alfred joining them. He just knew the man wouldn't. Yet just by Clark's question, he was starting to see who he was even if he didn't know him. But by morning he was sure he'd know enough to decide whether or not to offer the sort of proposition he was imagining. Of course, there would be testing required if they went down that route. If he asked and Clark agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'd love to hear what you think and what you hope or think might happen?


	2. Searching

Bruce, once dinner had come to an end and Clark Kent was abed, he made his way down into the cave with Robin. Alfred stayed above to keep an eye on their guest lest he should rise and find his way to where he shouldn't be. Much as Dick himself once had.

"So, I bet you're planning to look up Clark Kent on your computer."

"Yes, Robin."

"He seems nice," Robin cartwheeled from the steps to one of the other chairs in the section where the computers were kept.

"It could be an act." Bruce frowned at his sidekick. His ward. His _son_.

Robin sighed and shook his head. "Not everyone is as bad as you expect them to be, Bruce."

He closed his eyes and pinched his nose. When would Dick learn that everyone had the potential to turn? That no one could stay good forever. But he also didn't want to completely trample on his way of thinking.

"We'll see, Robin, we'll see." He sank down onto his seat and typed in the name _Clark Joseph Kent_ of _Smallville, Kansas._

He watched as the screen had a large circle with smaller circles going around and around as the screen loaded.

There were news articles. Clark Joseph Kent was adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent (nee Clark).

His breath sucked in he felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn. _Martha._ He'd had a mother named Martha too. Even at that moment he still missed her. Ever since that night in Crime Alley when she'd been taken from him along with his father Thomas, he'd felt an emptiness inside that was so rarely filled. There were fleeting moments. With Alfred, or with Dick. But no one could fill that void. Not for long. They might make the gaping hole just a tiny bit smaller, but it was a festering wound that broke and bleed over and over again with each night that passed. Worse when some criminal got away with their deeds.

But he didn't envy Clark Kent. Or he did, if only for a moment. Because he got to have his mother _Martha._ They weren't the same woman, but they only had one son with their husband. Bruce had been born of his mother, Clark had been adopted.

There was no information to be gathered as to who Clark's parents actually were. Possibly some young girl who'd gotten knocked up far too young and had left him somewhere where they might not have thought he'd been found. There were scumbags like that in the world, some because of fear, others because they just didn't care. The latter was the worse as he'd found babies, kittens, puppies, and the like in trashcans on patrol. Some were reunited with family members that did want them even if others didn't. Some had been placed in the foster care system where he made sure they all got the help they needed and the homes they deserved. No child deserved to be abandoned. Not like _that._

But he didn't need to know who Clark's biological parents were. Just what kind of person he was. His brows furrowed as he read about him in newspaper clips from Smallville that were online. There was something about a bus full of kids almost going down. They all would have drowned. Some said it had something to do with Clark Kent himself, but that was pure speculation.

There were other bizarre things left on blogs that had been taken down. Except nothing was ever truly gone off of the internet once it was placed there. One just had to be willing to sift through it to get to the dirt. 

More than once, Clark Kent had to have his Mother come get him from school or to just calm him down when he his senses were all over the place. Some had wondered if he had a form of autism or some other type of medical issue.

What was odd was the ambiguity on whether or not he'd ever gotten his vaccines. One doctor claimed he had and had produced a paper trail. 

"Hnn."

Robin, behind him, had been swinging from one of the bars. Now he stared at the back of Bruce's head, upside down. "What did you find, Batman?"

"There's something odd about Clark Kent."

"Like what?"

"Odd things started happening around Smallville after he was adopted."

"Could be a coincidence!"

Bruce frowned. "I don't believe in coincidences."

"Well, is he a bad guy?"

"From his school years in Smallville, no. He had above-average grades, played a semester of football. And..." he glanced at the mention of a tornado. Had Jonathan Kent died during it or had he just disappeared from view. He'd have to delve deeper. There was no way he could just go up to the younger man and ask how his parents were when they didn't know one another. Especially not if it meant asking about Clark's father, just in case he was among the deceased. If he was, what a terrible thing to have witnessed. But at least with a tornado, it had been natural and not a criminal. Bruce had no idea how he'd feel if a tornado had been his parents killer instead of a gunman.

Robin swung down from a handstand on the bar and flipped over, landing on his feet behind Bruce. "Well, I don't see anything wrong with him then. He's one of those rare people that are just as nice as they seem."

"Gotham will destroy him," because no one was untainted by crime in the city, not even if they weren't a criminal themself. The crime was all around them. Bruce did what he could, but there was so much corruption and so little the police could do anyway even without that being a problem. "You watch, Robin, Gotham will turn him from a kind man into a monster."

Robin blinked. "I haven't turned into a monster, Bruce. And neither have you!"

He stared down at his hands. "Haven't I?" He wondered sometimes but then shook his head. "You're right," he sighed and stood up from his seat to go look through files inside physical folders. So far The Joker hadn't broken out of Arkham, _yet again,_ and wondered when that place would be able to hold him without their security somehow being compromised.

Robin blinked behind his domino mask. He shook his head and Bruce wondered what he would have said.

The computer in the background beeped indicating it was finished its search and no longer would be looking for any more information on Clark Joseph Kent, from Smallville, Kansas.

Robin coughed. "He might be a good guy, but he's gotta be strong to last on a bull at a rodeo."

He turned to stare at the screen. Walked over and pressed the play button and watched Clark hold on with even just one arm. He came in third place riding the bull, but first when it came to riding a bucking bronco. 

If Robin weren't there, he would have let out an expletive or two just at the sight. His ward of course whistled.

"You might want to be careful around him Bruce. Looks like he can take a beating."

"If he's as good as his history indicates, there's no reason to," not in that kind of context anyway. Not that he'd consider it being beaten up. But it looked like the young man could handle rough and tumble. That didn't mean he could handle Bruce and his proclivities. It didn't mean the young man was gay, or bisexual, or anything other than straight. That didn't keep Bruce from fantasizing about him. Until he remembered he wasn't alone in the cave.

"Let's head out for patrol, Robin. We've still got to keep an eye on the docs for the next shipment and figure out where it's being sold and to who." There was a new dirty bomb coming into Gotham via the harbor and someone was willing to buy it. They just had to figure out who and get the police close enough to overhear the deal. And he had to help the undercover officer by threatening him so that he looked legitimate to the criminals. Unless there was some other way to go about it, but it was their best strategy at the moment.

Robin hopped into the passenger side of the Batmobile and waited for Bruce to get in. 

* * *

  
Clark found it difficult to sleep. There were loud noises. Gotham was a busy place. Shadows and monsters, but he couldn't give himself away. Not when he'd just moved there. It was better to keep hidden as his Pa always told him. The moment wasn't yet right if it ever would be. And until he had more answers in regard to who he was and where he came from he could not bring himself to do more than the bare minimum. So, he tuned everything out, to the best of his ability. Focused in on a single sound as his Ma had taught him to do. Her heartbeat was so far away. Instead, he zeroed in on the local nightlife. Owls hotting and creatures taking flight.

He opened his old laptop where he sat in bed and typed in a search for jobs in Gotham or Metropolis. The latter would be quite a commute, especially for him if he wanted to keep things under wraps. It would be better to find a place close to where he'd be living.

There wasn't much, but he filled application after application and attached his resume to each one. Some might not currently be hiring, but that wouldn't stop him from applying. It didn't look like Wayne Enterprises had any openings, but they employed so many people. Practically kept the economy going in Gotham that without the corporation he wondered if the city would even survive without it.

It didn't hurt to reapply for the Gotham Gazette or the smaller news outlets. More and more however he felt like the jobs that were available were cafes and fast food joints. There was nothing wrong with working at them, but his degrees would go to waste, surely. Those places were not about journalism, but catering to the customer. There were the city trash collectors too. That would be a problem for his sensitive nose. There would always be jobs that he couldn't even bring himself to apply to, because of his heightened senses.

Clark applied for security jobs too. Anything that would help him afford and fix up his late great-uncle's place was welcome, at least short-term.

Closing his eyes he let out a pent up breath. "This is harder than I thought it'd be." But this was life. It might differ in some places, but most of the world he was sure was ran on capitalism. No system was without its flaws if one turned to history. Nothing worked a hundred percent of the time for a hundred percent of the people. And people were also afraid of change, or to try new things, new ways. But the way some were forced or intimidated into new ways was just wrong on so many levels.

Opening his eyes he noticed that he'd exhausted the open for applicants list on that site. He'd go in person another time, but everything as of late was all done electronically. Few places, if any, had a physical form anymore. He missed Smallville and it being a little behind the times that way. Where people communicated and fostered close relationships. Yet the cities beaconed him. He knew not why. It wasn't the excitement, was it, he wondered.

There was no one to rely on but himself in this situation. In any other aspect, he relied on his parents and his friends. But none of them had the funds and he couldn't ask them to borrow money from. That just didn't feel right. 

His thoughts, however, went to those book titles on that bookshelf down below in the hall. His face warmed up. Fantasies were one thing. Bruce was nice to look at, and he was kinder than he thought he'd be, kinder than any rich person had ever seemed to him - at least of the ones he'd met.

He'd also looked up the term Sugar Daddy to make sure it was meant the way he thought. Some of these terms he'd not heard back in school. And when his hearing got out of hand he may have heard it but it was all a jumbled mess because there were so many voices all at once. Too much and too loud. While at University he was too absorbed in his studies. In high school, he hadn't cared that much other than having friends and dating Lana Lang and having a crush on some of his male classmates, or older men.

Signing off of the site he turned off the laptop and placed it on the nightstand. Sighed and lowered his head back onto the pillow. Even if the man propositioned him there were problems. He didn't bruise. He could easily get out of any sort of bondage by breaking it. There were other things that he wasn't sure about due to not being _human._ His body appeared to be analogous to humans even without his clothing. If only he knew more.

He blinked and stared up at the ceiling. Lifted an arm and placed it over his eyes. And then there was the moral dilemma of being paid for sex. The law said it was wrong and people had long taken advantage of sex workers - some had even been forced into that sort of life. It wasn't that long ago he'd helped a trio of women and a young boy escape from it. He'd been shocked to discover that human trafficking still continued despite the written laws. How it was kept secret he had no idea. But secrets couldn't be kept hidden forever and not long for him - as long as he was looking for the information. He kept an ear out for certain phrases and then would call government agencies or local police where he believed things were taking place. Yet he could do more, but he dare not lest the government catch him and dissect him. What if they found a way to cut into him? He was working himself up again toward another nightmare of that caliber. 

Come morning, he'd go search again, but this time on foot outside the manor. Maybe he could find work that didn't pay him in money but paid him what he needed to rebuild, to fix and update the small house he now owned.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. Just because he didn't really need it, didn't mean it wasn't beneficial. Not only to appear human, but for other mental, emotional, and even physical reasons.

* * *

  
Batman stood atop a building in the shadows dark. Lifted a pair of binoculars to stare down at the docks as a ship came into port.

Robin asked, voice low so that only Batman heard him. "Do you see anything, Batman?"

"Hnn," was his only answer as he followed the man and woman on the docks. Watched as one of them lifted up a gun and came down hard on the back of the other man's head.

The woman turned and grinned. Batman couldn't hear what was being said, but he could read their lips. Unforuntaltey he couldn't make everything out when each of them turned a certain way.

Robin glanced at where Batman watched. "Why does a gorgeous woman need to resort to crime?" He shook his head.

He didn't answer him, as he saw the man pull out a crowbar to open one of the crates. Inside there were guns. The woman handed the man a roll of cash from out of her cleavage. 

"That must be Sierra. You take out the man and I'll get her." He hoped it was Sierra. The middleman of many problems in Gotham as of late. Through her, he needed to find more information. He just didn't like hitting a lady, but he didn't _have_ to, there were other ways without physically harming anyone.

He didn't wait to see Robin launch off of the roof and down by using flag poles and railings having trained extensively for acrobatics even after the tragedy that had led to his parent's deaths.

Batman didn't have the time to ponder on it as he shot his grappling hook and swung down onto the docks, grabbing the woman with a free hand. "You and I need to have a talk."

She gasped and struggled for a moment, but saw how far they were up until he landed on one of the crates and pulled one of her hands back so she couldn't grab any hidden weapons.

"Let go of me you freak!" She snapped and tried to knee him. Only for her to wince as she came into contact with hard armor. She fell on her ass and held her foot.

Batman leaned down. He hadn't hurt her on purpose. And though he preferred not to hit a woman, he would if he absolutely had to. But other tactics often proved useful so as not to go that far.

She gulped. "What do you want!?"

"The name of your boss."

She shook her head. "Uh-uh, no way. I haven't done anything. I don't have a boss."

"Everyone has a boss unless they're unemployed." And he tried, he did, to make sure everyone in Gotham had a job. Some didn't want it though. Some who did have jobs wanted more and still turned to criminal activity.

Robin called out. "I got him, Batman! All trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey."

"Good," was his only answer as he leaned in even further. The nose of his cowl almost touching the woman's nose. "There are other ways to get information." He picked her up by the leg and held her upside down over the side of the crate. It wasn't as high as a building or from a ship's mast, but it would still hurt if he dropped her.

She cried out, "Okay! Okay! My boss is The Penguin."

Batman growled under his breath and grit his teeth. It wasn't the first time he'd dealt with that criminal. How he kept being released from prison he didn't know. There had to be a guard or officer in on the scheme. It was just a matter of weeding out _who._

He tied up and tossed the woman on top of the crate and pulled out a smoke bomb. Tossed it and then somersaulted backward and let his cape span out so that he glided down and landed beside Robin.

They both heard the police sirens.

"That'll be Gordon. Let's go, Robin." They'd leave the police to deal with the rest. One of the crates was already open revealing guns. Sierra and the man's fingerprints would be all over everything. It was a lucky thing for them that they'd not had the foresight to wear gloves or anything to keep their fingerprints from sticking to whatever they came into contact with.

"What did you find out?" Robin asked as he hopped into the passenger side of the Batmobile.

"This is leading to Penguin."

Robin blinked and turned his head to stare at him, wide-eyed beneath the domino mask. "He's at it _again?_ Geez, when will the villains ever stop? No matter how many times we put them away..."

"When we figure out who the dirty cop is that keeps letting him escape imprisonment from Black Gate."

"Wow, even the good guys are bad guys." Robin shook his head. Then grinned, "But we'll find them. You always do, Batman."

He wondered sometimes. Even when they did, it never ended. "When one bad seed is discovered there is always more to pop up in their place. Sometimes more than one."

"Well, we're still doing good, right? Saving families. Helping people. Keeping Gotham from being fully overrun with criminals and the people who belong in Arkham."

As he drove them back toward the secret entrance to the cave to park the Batmobile, he grunted. Even Arkham had breakouts more often than anywhere else. He didn't know how, but each time had been different. Or so it seemed. And some of the people there he already knew were so manipulative that the workers sometimes wound up needing to stay there as in-patients themselves. Whether or not they'd caused any problems for the law themselves.

Alfred was there to greet them and put away their costumes as they showered and dressed for the night. Even though it was getting closer to dawn.

Robin wouldn't be able to patrol with him that night since it was a school night, but they were both used to it by now. The way they worked together. But Dick would have to go to college in just a couple more years. That was more important than him staying in Gotham, even though Batman needed Robin as back up and to keep him from veering off his intended path. Where Batman was fear and even the civilians were afraid, they weren't afraid of Robin with his bright colors and smiling countenance. That he'd been Robin since he was young probably helped too, to ease their minds.

Bruce sighed as he left the cave and entered the library with Dick and Alfred trailing behind him. They made sure the secret passageway was closed and the hands of the old grandfather clock were not on the time that would open the door. They had someone else staying with them after all.

When he crawled underneath the covers of his bed and closed his eyes, he drifted into sleep. Alfred would be glad of it, he knew, but in his sleep, he dreamt of Clark Joseph Kent. The man who was an enigma by the information he'd gathered, though there was no concrete evidence that there was something truly different about him. Other than his attractiveness.

Tomorrow he'd see about finding Penguin. Either he was in his old haunt the Iceberg Lounge, or he was holed up somewhere else. But the villain could not hide forever. Batman would find him.

* * *

  
The following days, Clark continued his job search. He called back to show his enthusiasm. While he knew he gave all the right answers to their questions, if they didn't outright say that they weren't currently hiring, they didn't pick him for the job. Some said it was because he was overqualified. Others said it was because he didn't have the proper experience. Some of them he was certain, in both cities, were biased towards those who'd been born in Gotham and Metropolis and would offer them a position first.

If only he wasn't attached to his family's piece of property. It wasn't his parent's farm, for which he'd always hold an attachment to. He shouldn't feel the need to hang on to his great-uncle's property. He could sell it. He already had an interested buyer. And if he were less scrupulous he'd attempt to sell it to him for the above market value. But he was not a vicious businessman and he was attached.

It was home now, that small piece of property. If he could fix both the small house up as well as the stables, he'd raise and train horses. He just didn't have the funds. And as the days turned into a week and then a second week he despaired.

Were he not afraid of what would happen to him, or worse what would happen to his parents and friends, he'd use his powers to do some sort of job that paid him. Maybe a circus, but that didn't pay much as far as he knew. And it would take him away from his house.

He'd also noticed his host growing more and more irritated. 

That morning he stared at him and watched him pace back and forth while Alfred placed out lunch for them both. Dick was at school.

Alfred sighed. "Please, Master Bruce, sit down and eat. Whatever the problem, I'm sure you'll soon work it out."

Bruce nodded and sat down.

Clark wondered why the man didn't smile. He always looked so _grumpy_. Way different from his public facade. If it was a facade. 

"How is the job search going, Clark?" He picked up a knife and fork to cut into the steak on his plate.

Clark shook his head. "Not well."

"Are you thinking of changing your mind about selling?"

"No."

"Have you given thought to my other suggestion?" He asked and bite into the piece of steak on the end of his fork which he slowly chewed while staring at him. Waiting.

Clark gulped. He wasn't sure there had been a suggestion. Not in so many words, but in the way the man had leered at him. "What suggestion?" He quickly took a sip of the wine that had been paired with their meal. It didn't do anything for him, but help quench his suddenly dry mouth.

Once Bruce had finished his bite he responded. "I am often in need of an escort to parties. I'm not interested in one-night stands like I used to be and thought it would be easier to keep interested parties at bay. Even the ones that still think they can snag a billionaire bachelor as their husband. Most aren't looking for anything but what my name and fortunate can buy."

Clark stared at him. "Oh..." he stared down at his plate. That didn't sound... too bad. "So, acting like your boyfriend?"

"Something along those lines, yes. I would pay you of course. But you wouldn't be able to pursue any relationships whilst working for me."

He didn't have anyone and he was drawn to Bruce himself. The more he'd observed him, when he wasn't out looking for work, the less he seemed to be as he was portrayed by the media. Clark wasn't sure yet what was the real him and what wasn't.

"I could do that."

"I can have a contract drawn up. There was something else I wanted to bring up."

Their gazes caught and held.

"What, Bruce?"

"I sense this _tension_ between us. Whenever we're in the same room. Now I don't normally pay for sex, but I believe it would appear truer to our public audience if we were also fucking."

Clark felt his entire face heat up at that. "Wh-what?" He gulped over the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Sex _doesn't_ have to come into it, but I believe we're both attracted to each other. I happen to be in need of a sexual partner, a submissive, but if you're not into that I will understand. If you need time to think it over, and even if you say no, the offer to pay for your services as my date to events still stands."

Clark bowed his head and stared at the food on his plate. How could he be a submissive when anything to do with the world of BDSM would present a problem as he did not bruise or bleed and he could easily break through anything that tied him up. If he could find something, anything then he'd say yes right then and there. Well, maybe not. Sex work was illegal and he'd been raised in Kansas by a godfearing couple. They kept their religion of course but were more open-minded. How else would they have raised someone like him?

"I... need to think about this." Maybe he could find _something_ that would allow him to be with Bruce like that. Not that he had to accept _that_ part. "I may need to read up too, on what you're offering here."

"Of course. My library is at your disposal and should you need other materials I'll purchase the books for you to read and add them to the library."

"I'll agree to be your escort if you need me to be before I come to a decision on the other matter."

Bruce smiled. "Of course."

* * *

  
Bruce didn't know why he'd offered. There were still things about Clark Kent that were suspicious. However, during the couple of weeks he'd been there, he'd not been anything but what he seemed to be. A good man just looking for work so he could afford what a family member had left him in their will.

Still, he felt the need to get to the bottom of what was different about him. He needed to know so he'd be prepared for it. 

Damn his libido. There had been nights where he'd dreamt of Clark, naked and panting under him. There had been other scenarios too. It had been so long since he'd had to suffer wet dreams that he felt like a teenager again at the moments he woke up from those dreams. At least they weren't nightmares. 

Clark might not even agree to that part, but he did need an escort. He was tired of all the clingy women, and even men who weren't interested in him, but his money and influence. Even the rich, or perhaps _especially_ the rich, at least some of them, were gold diggers more so than those who were lower on the socio-economic ladder.

There were things he had to do however and so far Clark hadn't discovered it. Neither the secret passageway nor that he and Dick were Batman and Robin. This he thought would also help their cover, even to keep it from the journalism major himself.

"If you're sure, then this weekend I need to bring a date to the Iceberg Lounge. If you go with me, I'll give you your first installment at the end of the night."

Clark looked up and stared at him. "Iceberg Lounge? Isn't that place a bit...."

"Skivvy? Why yes, but I've been wanting to try out their salmon dishes." The place was worse than skivvy, but he needed a reason to be there. A date would be better than going in alone and Dick couldn't gain entry as he wasn't old enough. Not that he ever wanted Dick to have to go inside _again_. The last time they'd gone there as Batman and Robin after hours so there hadn't been too much that wasn't proper for young eyes or ears.

Clark nodded. "Okay. I guess I should visit each place in the city at least once if I'm going to live here."

Bruce smiled and then tucked back into his plate, Clark followed suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was being a bit stubborn for me... but here it is. Let me know what you think?

**Author's Note:**

> Please join as at the [Batsupes Community Discord Server](https://discord.com/invite/3fBFAc8)


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